


In Time

by Kiliann



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Just a short drabble, Reylo - Freeform, first reylo ive ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 13:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5930836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiliann/pseuds/Kiliann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His past was dark, and her thoughts were troubled. They really were a pair, she often thought. After the same things, failing for the same reasons. Someday they would know each other and understand it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Time

She closes her eyes, slamming gates and dropping bars, raising walls. Anything to stop this worm from entering, from dancing languidly across her mind as it has tried so many times before.

 _Why won’t you let me in?_ he asks when she tries to pull away, and she wants to smile at the pity she detects in his voice; but she doesn’t.

 _I can’t,_ she tells him. _You know I can’t yet_.

But she can see how much he wants this, how much he wants to know her in every way possible. She wants to know him, too, his alluring smile enticing her again and again—but she stops. She can’t show him everything. _In time_.

He isn’t angry, she knows without a doubt. Each time she refuses, his gaze remains steady, his hands firmly grasping her arms, her waist. There is no insult behind her refusal, like in times past; there are parts of him yet that even she can’t grasp at, either, and she understands. He understands. Not everything, but enough. Enough to know that this is what they need.

His aroma is tangible, spicy, something elevating and exciting and at the same time comforting. She burrows her nose into the crook of his bare neck, still sticky with sweat, a sort of silent apology for being so guarded. He rests his chin on the top of her head, and all is forgiven.

They’ve been trying for months to let each other in; the bond they already shared would only grow deeper with time—such was the way of the Force—and so they’d vowed to open everything to each other. But there were walls, fortresses built around corners of their minds, guarding the same secrets. His past. Her insecurities. Things they couldn’t expose voluntarily, no matter how hard they tried.

 _Neither of us are ready_ , she’d said softly one night as she waited for the goose pimples on her arms to subside, a side effect of mind penetration.

 _We’ll keep trying_ , he’d promised. _I want you to know me completely_.

Those words always sent shivers down her spine. _Know him completely_. And _he_ might know _her_ , too. Doubts flickered at the corner of her mind—would he still want her to know him after seeing her the way she truly was?—but each time he seemed to read her feelings, soothing her with words gentler than she thought someone like him capable of. _In time_ , they would whisper. _In time_.

She often thought back to the days they hadn’t been so frustrated at themselves; when everything was new and their bond was a blessing, not a curse; when mind-reading hadn’t been part of the package. Physical intimacy was one thing, however satisfying; mental intimacy was quite another. They were no longer clowning around, it seemed. Knowing someone on a cognitive level was more than anything she could have hoped for. She knew him, _really_ knew him; and yet she didn’t. It was the same the other way around.

There were times when she was angry. _Why couldn’t he just show me? They’re only thoughts. Only memories._ But the distress pouring off of him in waves at her pounding anger was enough to remind her that it wasn’t that easy—that giving up your entire self to another person was so painful, so unnatural that no written accounts of it ever occurring were left, whisperings and legends of ancient peoples the only spark of hope that kept them going.

She flinches at the feather-light touch on her mind for only a moment before relaxing—this is him, his father’s son—and a faint smile tugs at her lips as she feels a wave of content wash over him, and consequently her. Here was the part she liked best—this sleepy intermingling of consciousness and dreams, something warm and quiet and soft. So far away from the troubled beings they were.

His past was dark, and her thoughts were troubled. They really were a pair, she often thought. After the same things, failing for the same reasons. Someday they would know each other and understand it all. _In time_ , she whispers, a lullaby for the both of them. _In time_.


End file.
